Portion of the Whole
by Bishilove
Summary: Matt muses his past with Mello in a series of flashbacks. MattxMello, onesided LxMello and MelloxNear, MattxNear implied. Rated T for future chapters.
1. Prologue

With most kids, going to bed meant losing time that they could be playing tag outside in the dark. To Matt when he was growing up, it meant one of two things: slipping into darkness or watching an Inner-Mind double feature. He loved falling into a dreamless sleep. It was like being in a cocoon, and when he woke up he would be refreshed, a butterfly, if you will. The nights he hated the most were the nights that he had dreams, dreams about being in a dark room, alone with no one to call out to, or about getting lost in the halls of a building with white walls, floors, and ceilings. Nothing but white halls, and the only splash color was from his red hair.

He hated that dream the most. It always made him wake up in a cold sweat, screaming. His roommate would always yell at him afterwards. He would then get up and go to Mello's room and sleep on the floor, lying next to him until the ice cold feeling of emptiness melted away. Back then was probably when he became dependent on Mello.

Only Mello could make him forget. He was like a drug. A drink that could make you lose your inhibition and forget the pain without making you stupid, like alcohol. But like alcohol, Mello came with a hangover. After being around Mello then losing him, you hurt so much. Your head splits in two, and no amount of aspirin can fix it.

What didn't help was that Matt had an addictive personality. He loved the buzz he got from taking a drag off of one of his cigarettes. He loved the high he got from beating a boss or leveling up on a video game. But the thing he was the most addicted to was the impossible to describe sensation of being around Mello.

The only thing that could keep the pain away was by avoiding the drug, and Matt's willpower wasn't that strong. He couldn't stay away from Mello, and he knew it. Mello would be the death of him someday, and he knew it. But it never stopped him from going to see him daily. From the day he first came to Wammy House to adulthood he would come see Mello given the chance. Even if he knew he was just going to be used and throws away.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Matt, Mello, or Death Note.**

This is the prologue to my story. Review and let me know what you think.


	2. Master's Orders one

**Everyone ALWAYS starts off when either Mello/Matt first come to Wammy House. I'm going to do it a little different though. I'm going to do random memories.**

"Go out and get me some chocolate," Mello commanded from the grimy couch in Matt's even grimier apartment.

"Got any cash on you?" Matt asked, tinkering with one of his many computers.

"No. Go buy it for me!" Mello growled, angry now. He was holding his gun at this point.

Sighing, Matt stopped working and stood up. "Geez, Mel, you're acting like a pregnant woman with a craving. Fine. I'll get it. Just quit playing with your stupid gun!" He then left for the convenience store down the street. Mello had been more irritable since the explosion, but that wasn't why Matt was following orders.

Matt had always listened to Mello, because Mello was always right. No matter how asanine or cruel it seemed, if it was what Mello told him to do, Matt would do it. Excluding quit smoking and stop playing video games, he'd done everything Mello had ever asked, even if it meant taking the fall. He remembered the first time he'd sacrificed himself for Mello's sake.

**Age 8**

"Mello, you're such a jerk!" Matt whispered angrily at his blond friend. They'd gotten busted by Roger again for "causing chaos" again, and were in his office waiting for the elderly man to enter and give them their punishment.

This time they'd crept into the girl's bathroom and put ketchup packets under the bumpy part of the toilet seat, so that when they sat down the packets would pop and ketchup would go everywhere, making it look like… Well, you know! You get the idea, I'm sure.

This, to the two boys, would be perfect revenge for when some of the girls had tried to talk Mello into wearing a dress the evening before, which had offended him. "I'm manly!" Mello had said, "Where do those stupid girls get off asking me to play dress up with them?" (Matt personally liked the idea. He'd thought Mello would look pretty. He WAS more attractive than any of the girls in Wammy's, at least in Matt's opinion anyway).

"Oh, shut up Matt! It had been your idea anyway!" Mello whispered back. And indeed it had been Matt's idea. Mello wanted revenge, and Matt delivered.

"Fine! So what if it was? You made me!" Matt argued back. And Mello had made him. He wanted Mello to be happy, because when Mello was happy, Matt was happy too. The red head knew that the only time Mello was happy was when he felt that anyone that had angered him had been punished.

"No I didn't! You did it on your own!" Mello returned, crossing his arms and glaring at his partner in crime. he didn't do it on his own though. Not by choice, anyway. If he hadn't done it Mello wouldn't have had anything to do with him for what would feel like forever to his childhood mind, but what would really only be a few hours. Nothing felt worse to Matt then being ignored by Mello. "Just say you did it alone! My favorite show'll be on tonight and you now Roger doesn't let us watch TV after we get in trouble!" Mello continued.

"_But it's my favorite show too…"_Matt thinks. But Mello obviously didn't care. He rarely cared. Sighing, Matt smiled at the older boy. "Okay, but only if you promise to play Super Smash Brothers with me after dinner," he whispered, hearing footsteps outside the door.

The door knob clicked and Roger entered the room. "Now, which of you two caused the ruckus in the girl's bathroom today?" he asked.

* * *

**Part two is up. Let me know what you think.**

DISCLAIMER: I don't own ANY of the characters.


	3. Cut Up two

Mello had left the apartment to "go to the store" and hadn't returned in three days. He would often do this. Leave for stretches of time, claiming to be "going for a walk" or "going out" but actually going to do something that he knew Matt wouldn't want to know about. He would sometimes return covered in blood, sick and vomiting everywhere, or with cuts and scratches all over his body. Once he returned with a gun shot wound. Matt would always take care of him and nurse him back to health when he did this, but he wasn't worried. Mello obviously wasn't, so why should Matt be?

These absences would always leave Matt with a gaping hole in his mind. Without Mello he was always bored, with nothing to do and nothing to occupy his thoughts other than the white hallways of his childhood dreams.

The loneliness would get to him sometimes. When he wasn't watching himself, he would sometimes call for Mello, thinking him in another room in the house. He would then realize that there wasn't anything there only just right after shouting his name. "Mello! Hey!" he would call. Then after a moment he would laugh at himself. _"What a fool I am," he'd_ think to himself.

This hollow feeling was nothing to what he felt after Mello had left Wammy House. He could handle it easy. Comparing the two pains was like comparing a splinter to getting a stake hammered into your chest, like in those old vampire movies. One hurt and could be fixed with about five minutes of work. One killed you in the spot.

* * *

**Age 13**

Right after Mello had left, Matt went and sat in Near's room waiting for the albino to return. He was sitting in the middle of the room on a carpet with his knees pulled up to him, hugging them to his thin frame. His face was buried in his arms.

Near entered the room and he put his toy on the shelf in it's place. He eyed Matt with his usual hollow, emotionless gaze.

"It's your fault. It's all your fault he's gone," he choked out at Near, holding back sobs.

"It is his fault he let his emotions control him. I offered to work with-"Near started.

"Shut up! SHUT UP! You don't know! You don't know ANYTHING about Mello!" Matt screamed at him, his voice cracking. "It's your fault. It's your fault..." he whispered after his outburst.

Near flinched and looked away from the sobbing teenager. He chose his next toy, a plastic plane with red lettering on the side, and lifted it off the shelf. Clutching it to his chest, he began walking out of the room.

"Why did he leave?" Matt said in a voice barely loud enough for the leaving boy to hear. Near was smart. He would know. Matt was sure he would.

"I don't know. I miss him too," Near said walking back and standing by the older boy. staring down at him with his constantly unwavering liquid eyes.

Matt started crying without holding back anymore, unable to comprehend anything anymore. He reached up and grabbed the sleeve of Near's pajama top. "Stay with me. Please…" he whispered.

Near sat down, placing his toy next to him.

Matt, still clutching the sleeve, held onto it for dear life. "I hate you..." he whispered.

"I know," the albino said back emotionlessly.

That was the first time Matt had ever searched for comfort in someone other than Mello.

* * *

Mello had been gone for three months, but his bed still smelled like chocolate. Now that he was gone, Matt had no one to lie next to until the feelings after the dreams slipped away. He would lie on Mello's bed and cry until the dawn, and he had taken to sitting alone.

He had once been the most sociable of all of L's successors, but now he just sat around. Sometimes he would hold bars of chocolate and stare at them while they melted in his hands, getting all sticky but not caring as the creamy candy covered his hand. He'd taken up smoking. Roger allowed it as long as he only did it outside and there weren't any cigarette butts left anywhere.

"Why do you smoke?" Near asked one evening while the two of them sat on the back porch.

"It reminds me of him."


	4. Smack To The Face three

**OMG I have something that isn't angsty. I can't believe it either.**

* * *

They'd never slept together. Matt had always wanted to, but how do you just go ahead and say to your best friend, "Hey, wanna' screw?" They'd kissed before, on more than one occasion, too, but they'd never gone beyone that. The line between lovers and friends was thin, and the only thing that erased it was sex.

This evening Matt had taken his turn to be the one to drown his sorrows in alcohol while Mello was the designated driver. In his inebriated state Matt had accidentally smoked another bar fly's cigarettes. Matt argued with the man, and it lead to a fight.

The surly man and his two friends beat Matt bloody while Mello watched the scene play out from the sidelines, eating a chocolate bar. "It's your fault for being an idiot," was Mello's response as he gingerly placed an ice pack on his friend's swollen face.

Matt was pissed that Mello hadn't helped him. He wouldn't have gotten into the fight in the first place if he thought Mello wouldn't have done anything. One look at Mello's ever-present gun and the three guys wouldn't have messed with him. He had a rather gruesome black eye because of Mello's failure to act.

In a drunken stupor, Matt glanced up at his friend standing over him and smiled saying, "You're so cold... Make it up to me…"

Mello placed a kiss on Matt's cut and swollen lips and pushed the messy red hair off of his face. Matt groaned and muttered, "Kisses aren't supposed to hurt…" before he passed out from a combination between injury and alcohol.

* * *

**Age 10**

"Hey, Matt?" Mello asked his friend that was absorbed in a game of _Final Fantasy_.

"Yeah?" he said acknowledging the other boy while simultaneously slamming buttons. They made a clicking sound as he pushed them. _Click. Click. Click._ _"Stupid Turn-based RPGs…" he_ thought frustrated.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?" Mello inquired, fingering the rosary hanging from his neck.

"No," Matt answered. _Click. Click. Click._ He'd never kissed anyone. Ever. In his whole life. "Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing. Just wondering," he said persisting to watch Matt play his game.

"Oh," Matt replied, engrossed in his game._ Click. Click. Click._

"Um… Matt, could you stop playing for a minute?" Mello demanded, frustrated.

"Sure, Mel," he paused his game and put his controller down, "What do ya' want?"

"Well, you know that girl, the creepy one?" Mello said trying to sound as if whatever he was going to talk to Matt about hadn't been eating away at him for hours.

"Yeah. What about her?" He knew the Creepy Girl all too well. She would stare at him a lot. He would be in class, at the dinner table, outside watching Mello and the other boys playing, and her eyes would be following him. She always sighed while staring at him, and whenever he looked at her or she noticed that he saw her gazing at him, she'd blush and hide. Her gaping at him made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

When he asked Mello why she did this, Mello answered, "She stupid. Just ignore her. She's not worth your time. She's ugly too." Matt though ugly was pushing it, but Mello thought all of the girls were ugly.

So Matt ignored her, because that was what Mello said to do. But why was Mello bringing her up now? They both hated the Creepy Girl, Matt for obvious reasons, Mello for reasons he wouldn't bother explaining to Matt, claiming they were "trivial" and "unimportant".

"The girls are saying that she's going to kiss you," Mello said looking away from Matt, at a bare wall.

"Why would she do that?" Matt asked.

"I don't know!" Mello answered, "How would I know why anyone would wanna' kiss you?"

"Well, if you feel that way about it..." Matt grumbled at Mello, and scooting back over to his controller. He prepared to start playing again when Mello scooted up next to him.

Matt sighed and turned to Mello again. "What do you wa-, " Matt began when Mello's lips slammed into his own. It was a very quick kiss, but a kiss none-the-less. They'd bumped teeth, so it was a far cry from romantic.

"There! Now she can't steal your first kiss," Mello declared with a triumphant grin plastered across his face.

Matt just stared. "Next time ask first, okay?" he mumbled gaping at Mello, his face reddening.

* * *

So, what do you guys think? Was Mello jealous or just territorial of what he feels is his property? Let me know what you think.

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but God would I love to.**


	5. First Love

Matt was going through some of his old belongings from before he'd left Wammy's. Leaving at age fourteen, a year after Mello, he'd only had a few things to take with him: a trash bag of clothes, a box of some junk that he was currently going through, and his PSP.

In this box were things that were stupid to keep, but meant the world to him. The first thing he found after lifting the dusty lid was an old picture drawn with the sloppy hand of a small child. A smile crept onto the gamer's lips as he flipped the paper over and read the words on the back. "Me and Mello" it said. In the drawing, a shorter stick figure with red hair was holding the hand of a taller stick figure with blond hair.

Matt muffled the laughter that had almost escaped his body. Mello was asleep, nursing a hangover left from the bar and the heavy drinking that had occurred last night. Mello had consumed an ungodly amount of alcohol and puked on Matt's favorite striped shirt, while Matt remained sober so he could drive Mello home and prevent the violent Russian from shooting anyone. He was scary when he was drunk. He would get into bar fights, and then shoot something, or someone, because he thought it looked stupid. He hadn't killed anyone yet, as far as Matt knew, but why take a chance?

He continued looking through the box and came across an old porn magazine, "Why do I still have this stupid thing?" he thought. After all, those weren't his taste. Not this particular kind of porn, anyway. After a moment of thinking, he remembered why he had it. Placing it gingerly back in the box, he continued to search for anything that would be of use to the two.

* * *

**Age 12**

"Mello… I have a question," Matt said staring up at the ceiling in Mello's room. Mello was lying down reading a comic book on his bed while Matt was lying sprawled out on the floor with his arms behind his head. Music was paying from Mello's boom box on the dresser.

"Telling me you have a question is redundant. Why do you do that crap?" he asked annoyed, turning the page of his comic book.

"I dunno'. Just 'cause, I guess," he responded, turning to stare at the sadistic genius.

"Well, ask it already, dumb ass!" Mello yelled at his friend.

Matt looked away from Mello and began staring at the ceiling again. "How do you know when you like someone?" he asked blushing.

Mello's eyes widened and he stared at the preteen located on his floor. "Wha… What?"

"Um… 'Cause I think I like someone, but I dunno' if I do for real or not," Matt mumbled averting his eyes.

"Well… Um… When you like someone you… I dunno'… Don't ask me!" Mello said returning to his comic book, his cheeks a faint pink.

The next day Mello had gone to great lengths to acquire something for Matt. "Here…" he said unable to look his younger friend in the eye, "I got this for you. Use it for… Well, just use it!" He'd shoved a small parcel into Matt's hands.

Matt opened the small package and looked at the contents. It was an issue of Hustler. "Porn?" Matt asked looking up at his taller friend. Both adolescents had turned scarlet.

The magazine would be of no use to Matt due to his preferences, but because Mello had given it to him it was important.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**It has come to my attention that subtle innuendo on Matt's "preference" wasn't caught. Well, the porno mag he got from Mello was full of nude women. Well... cough Matt's gay in this, guys...cough**


	6. Violent Send Off

"The new L… I wonder what he's like." Matt asked while the two rode in his car. Matt was driving while Mello sat in the passenger's seat, eating a chocolate bar and staring out the window as the rain splashed the pavement of the LA streets they were driving on.

"Shut up about that bastard. He wishes he were L. No one could ever replace him! Not this new faker or Near…" Mello mumbled with a gruff frown adorning his face.

Matt knew that more than anyone. When they were growing up, Mello took his admiration of L to a whole new level. It could be seen as hero worship. Maybe even love.

* * *

**Age 13**

"Hey, where's Mello?" Matt asked one of the orphans.

He'd been forced to stay inside for stealing another kid's Gameboy Advance SP while Mello plaid outside. Mello had broken his because Matt had been ignoring him and playing his games instead of listening to his daily Near Bashing/Rant. He sat inside and played with his PS2 while Mello played soccer. Mello loved team sports because he could command the other players. He was good, so he always was chosen as the team captain.

"He was called into Roger's office," the little boy said shrugging.

Getting called to Roger's was never good news. Matt shrugged it off as Mello getting into trouble for playing sports too violently again. Last time he'd kicked some guy in the crotch for stealing the ball. Sure, it'd been hilarious, but Mello got suspended from playing outside for two weeks. Matt didn't mind though. It meant he got to spend more time with Mello then usual, and since he hated sports, it had worked in his favor.

He went to wait for his friend to return outside the office. After twenty minutes of this Matt began to get antsy. Yeah, the old bastard was long-winded, but Roger had never taken this long before. What could it be?

Then Matt heard it. Mello's shouting. It was in coherent through the door, but he knew it wasn't good.

At that moment, the door burst open. Matt jumped in surprise. Mello's fists were clenched, and his face was torn with anguish. His eyes were brimming with tears. Mello never cried. Whatever had happened was devastating. Mello never cried. Never.

"Mel? Hey, Mel. What's wrong?" he asked putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. Matt's hand was slapped away. Matt recoiled.

"He's dead," Mello said, turning his head down to the ground and glaring at it, as if it were to blame for whatever had happened.

"Who? Who died?" Matt inquired.

"He'd gone. Kira killed him," he said closing his eyes.

Matt's mouth fell open, and the hand he had raised to comfort Mello fell. "He's… Gone?"

* * *

Mello was packing his things. "Are you leaving?" Matt stood in the doorway, still in shock.

"I have to beat Near. I have to kill Kira," was his only answer.

"Why can't I come?" Matt asked, pleading.

"You just can't!" Mello was screaming now, "L's fucking dead! Don't you get it? Dead! And Near's the successor! Near, Matt! Fucking Near! That little albino pajama-wearing freak!"

Mello was kicking everything, breaking everything. Furniture, lamps, anything that got into contact with him.

"Mel… Mello… Stop…" Matt whispered.

"NO! Since when do you tell me what to do? Never! NEVER!" Mello bellowed, full of rage and hurt.

"Mello…" Matt said trying again.

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Mello roared. He stomped toward Matt and punched him in the cheek. Matt didn't do anything to stop him. He just stood there and took it. Mello punched him again, this time in the stomach. He punched Matt again and again. Bruises began forming already.

"Fight back! Why won't you fight back? Why won't you hit me?" Mello screamed, shoving his friend. Matt just starred, the look in his eyes mornful.

"I hate you! Go away! I hate you!" Mello shouted, eyes full of tears that he was holding back.

Matt stared at Mello for a moment. He turned around and exited the room. He didn't even say goodbye.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**This one was so emo. Please review and tell me if it sucked.**


	7. After All These Years

Whenever he was in his car, Matt felt like a rock star. Sure, it was a piece of shit grey Pinto that was older than he was, but he loved it. The music was playing so loud the bass was shaking his vehicle (if you could call the old machine that). It was some CD he'd left in the car from the last time Mello had been in it with him. The music was all in German, or Russian, or some language that Mello was fluent in but Matt could care less about. He didn't care though; it had a kick ass beat. He took a long drag from his cigarette before he put it out by grinding the butt into the built-in ash tray. He reached over to the radio and turned the volume down from ear drum-busting to whisper.

He stopped at a red light and reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. He inhaled deeply, preparing for the impending bitch-fest, and dialed. It rang once before an irritated voice answered. "What do ya' want?"

"Hey, Mel. I need access to some of your old mafia funds," he said into the piece of plastic.

"What the fuck for?" Matt could hear Mello's irritation through the phone.

"I need to get some more pirated software, and it's going to break the bank for me," he muttered, knowing what would happen.

"Why can't you make your own fucking computer shit?" his comrade roared from the receiver. Matt held the cellular device from his ear and winced.

"I can, but I don't have the materials… Anymore…" Matt said wincing again.

"Oh yeah! That's right... You used the last of the hacking software I bought for you to hack into fucking World of Warcraft to get some shit!!" Mello screamed from the phone.

"It's not like you don't have half a million left in your account from The Organization…" Matt stated, rolling his eyes, exasperated.

"Fine! Whatever! Just bring me home some chocolate!" his friend shouted, with a lighter tone this time before hanging up.

Smiling, Matt said, "Anything you want," to the Mello-less phone, and flipped it to hang up.

The mafia had been Mello's element in life. His intelligence, attitude, and abilities of manipulation had put him at the top at the tender age of sixteen in only a year of effort.

* * *

**Age 15**

Matt stood on the old L.A. pier with nothing but a duffel bag and a laptop case, staring at the sunset over the ocean. It was the most glorious thing he'd ever seen (next to Mello's smile). The waves crashed into boats, and the sun reflected off of the ocean. It took his breath away. Even though he'd only been there for a few hours, he loved the United States already.

He'd made arrangements to meet one of his hacker buddies who could find anyone with his skills and connections there at eight, and it was already 7:45. The two of them had robbed a bank with a virus together. Matt had yet to tell the man that he was only fifteen, but what business was it of his? All the man wanted was Matt's computer skills, after all.

Clutching his laptop to is chest, he checked his watch again. He'd remembered to set it to Pacific Time, so why did he feel like his hacker buddy was late?

A tall figure approached him. Matt grinned and waved. The man looked about ten years older than computer prodige. At he got closer, Matt observed that he was a head taller than the teenager. Matt thrust out his hand and grinned. "Hey. I'm Matt. I believe you have work for me?"

The man starred at the hand in disbelief. "You're… DecoderM?" he asked gawking at the boy.

"Sure as hell am!" he said withdrawing his hand and adjusting his goggles.

The man sighed and reached up, running his hand through his hair. "I'm Derrek. MiracleThief. How old are you anyway?"

Matt shrugged. "Fifteen."

"Whatever. Listen, I work for the mob now. The boss's impressed with your skills and wants you. You in?" he asked. After the new boss took over, age really was only a number in The Organization these days. "If not, you will be because you're a liability to them free-lance. Pretty much, join or die, kid."

"Can they help me find my friend?" he asked, ignoring the "kid" bit.

"They can do anything," Derrek said with a smirk.

* * *

Matt entered the building. It looked like a rundown apartment from the outside, but from the inside it looked like what it was. An underground crime syndicate and the center of operations for the REAL rulers of the country, that ran it through blood instead of wasting their time with trivial things, like morals. Everyone wore suits, excluding the tech guys, like Derrek and the other hackers/electronic thief extraordinaire-types who wore old clothes because they could care less about their appearance.

"The boss wants to meet you for some reason. I didn't meet him until Id worked here for a long time... I don't know why he's so interested in you. I mean, you're not as good as I am..." he said trying to sound un-offended.

Matt smirked. They both knew who was better, and it was obviously the younger of the two. He'd managed the bank robbery with nothing but a laptop, while Derrek had to use three super computers.

They approached the entrance to the boss' area. It was a shiny, blood-red door that Matt assumed was bulletproof. There was a burly man in a suit standing at the door. He pointed at Derrek and then back to the hallway. Derrek frowned and glared at the guard, then down at Matt. "Careful with the boss. He's hard to please. Make one wrong move and you'll be dead before you can even beg for your life," Derrek said smirking, trying to scare the boy before leaving. The burly man knocked on the door then.

"Come in," a voice called form within the door.

Matt entered through the door and stood there for a moment. His mouth fell open and he dropped his laptop, causing it to make a dull _thud_ against the wood floor.

"Hello, Matt," his leather-clad best friend said, holding a bar of chocolate to his smirking lips. It was obvious who the boss was. "Welcome to The Organization."

"Mello…" was the only word that escaped his lips.

* * *

**I've been working on how to do this chapter forever in my head. It usually takes me up to 45 minutes to type one chapter, but this one took me two hours. Yup. I worked HARD.**

**If you're wondering what Matt's listening to, it's Moskau by Rammstein and TATU. You can't understand crap, but it's got good techno beats. I dislike Rammstein, but I like this song.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ANYTHING.**


	8. Stupidity Is Best Served In Pairs

"Are you done yet?" Mello asked his partner, his arms currently crossed in annoyance.

"Almost. This security system is kinda' hard to tamper with," he said clicking away on his laptop, currently attached to a key-pad by the door. He'd disabled the security cameras hours ago, causing them to relay a continuous feed.

"It shouldn't be that hard for you. Or are you just too stupid?" Mello was getting irritable. They'd been standing outside the house of a drug dealer/business tycoon in the rain for over ten minutes, and the usual amount of time it took Matt to hack a security system, two minutes, had long been passed.

"This one is encrypted. If it'd been anyone other than me, it'd take two years," Matt whined in his own defense. In truth he was taking his time because he enjoyed seeing Mello in the wet leather, which was always tight, but clung to the mafia boss' body tighter than usual when wet.

He could tell by Mello's gaze that he didn't mind the view of Matt's surprisingly sculpted torso either, which was the only reason he hadn't whipped his gun out of his pants and put against his temple yet.

At that moment, the keypad beeped. A wide smirk spread across Matt's face and he said, "How was that, Mel? Fast enough for you?"

Mello glared at his smirking partner in crime. "Let's just get this over with. I wanna' break into the cocaine, gun, and jewelry storage quick. You can steal the security equipment if you want, but make it fast."

Mello had always been a loose-cannon. Matt had always been his devoted follower. That's just how it was. That's how it was supposed to be. The two of them had never known any different, after all.

* * *

**Age 5**

"There's a new kid today," Linda said grinning at Matt, "I heard he's Russian."

New children were a rarity at Wammy's, getting a max of three a year. After all, the qualifications were hard to meet. Off-the-chart IQ, no living relatives or abandoned at birth, and serious social issues. Well, the last one wasn't a _real_ requirement, but it was typical for the institute.

They were all geniuses at Wammy's. They were all studying subjects ten years beyond their maturity level, and they could all keep up without issues. If Matt had had the choice he would've rather played his Gameboy instead of learned about Criminal Psychology, which he did generally because he'd sneak it into class. It was his least favorite subject, after all.

Chosen by IQ tests that they didn't know they were taking in the first place, because they were given in the form of puzzles or games, they were swiped up from random orphanages across the world. Mail Jeevas, an addition a year ago, had been adopted from an orphanage in Hertfordshire, England. He'd felt lucky, because he, unlike a majority of the other children, got to remain in his original country.

"Matt, you're wanted in Roger's office," one of the many women that cared for the children said to him. He stood from his place on the playroom floor as she took his hand and led him to the place where punishment occurred.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked, eyes brimming with tears in fear of the impending time out.

"Of course not, silly!" she said smiling down at him.

They reached the door, which was ajar. Two chairs were placed in front of the desk, and a tuft of blonde hair stuck out from behind one of them.

"Take a seat, Matt," Roger said, waving a hand to the chair that was unoccupied in front of his desk.

Matt hopped onto the chair and looked to the right, where an unrecognizable child slightly taller than himself sat. He was unsure if they were a boy or girl, because whoever the child was, male of female, they were very pretty and had long blonde hair.

"This is Mello, your new roommate," he said inquiring the neighboring girl, "Mello, this is Matt. He will show you around and show you the location of your room."

Roommates were chosen by personality analysis and intelligence levels. Matt's roommate had been Near for about a week, but Matt kept bruising him because Near's paleness disgusted him. In fact, Matt was the sole reason that personality was now a key factor in roommate selection instead of just intelligence.

Mello frowned. "I du nut wunt a room-ate Roecher. I wunt to leev alun, nut wif uniewun ols." He argued with a thick foreign accent. He was obviously bright if he could speak any English as his age.

Matt frowned. "Well, I'm not too big on living with a girl, ya' know."

Mello glared. "I em a boy."

"Well, you look like a girl," Matt retorted.

Roger sighed. "Enough, boys! Enough! Just give it a day or two. See if you like each other."

Within hours they had bonded over mutual hatred of American-born Near, whom Mello had slammed into while on his way to the bathroom. (Near didn't apologize, believing that Mello should, as he hadn't run into anyone like Mello claimed.)

* * *

**If you're wondering what Mello's saying it's: "I don't want a roommate, Roger. I want to live alone, not with anyone else."**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**


	9. Worth a Thousand Words

Sorry it's been so long. My internet was down forever. It was killing me. I couldn't get my fix!

* * *

"Matt, we've got a witness," the blonde said looking away from the piles of money they'd just gotten into contact with on a drug deal.

"How old?" the goggle-clad gamer called back. Matt didn't go by gender or if they had kids, he went by age. If they were younger than he was, he didn't touch them. Sure, the two of them were orphans, so you think they'd sympathize, but they knew plenty of people that were just as fucked up as they were that grew up with parents.

"He looks about twenty." the blonde replied emotionless, counting the loot. The cocaine had been stolen in the first place, so the profit was enormous.

"Want me to get rid of him?" Matt took a drag from the Marlboro hanging from his lips.

"Do it quick. He won't shut up." Mello was almost done counting.

"Please! Don't kill me! I promise I won't say anything! I won't tell anyone! I swear! Just let me go!" the man pleaded. He looked pitiful. He had obviously just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Too bad though. It sucked to be him.

"I know you won't." Matt raised his gun, and placed his finger on the trigger.

The man was dead before he could scream. Not a soul heard the shot. Not even Matt. His pistol was silenced, after all.

* * *

**Age 6**

"_Matt, why er we heer?"_ Mello asked irritated. They were inside the National Gallery of London, and it was raining outside.

"It's a field trip. We go on these sometimes. Roger likes to get us outta' the house. He thinks it might help keep us normal."

Mello snickered. _"Does he know thut Near well alwuys be a freak?"_ His accent was just as prominent as ever. Matt had heard him speak without it, and he also knew he just pretended that it was this bad to give Roger hell. They weren't supposed to have any accents when speaking foreign languages or someone might discover their true identities.

"Yeah. He does it for kids like us, who are freaks but not over-the-top." The sarcasm went over his head, red hair and all.

The petite blonde frowned at his friend. _"Why em I friends weth you? You are a tutel eh-day-oot."_ It was a rhetorical question, but Matt answered anyway.

"Because I'm the only person that can put up with you." Matt was smirking.

Mello smacked him in the back of the head and then pointed at Near, who was staring at a painting. "_Luke, ets Near_."

Matt sighed. It was another of Mello's anti-Near crusades. It was fun, of course. He didn't like Near either. He was creepy and he always twirled his hair. He had a bald patch from doing it and everything. It was just that the constant punishment and ranting from Mello that occurred after getting in trouble were bothersome.

Mello reached into his pocket and removed a red rubber bouncy ball. He aimed for Near's head, the petite target being none the wiser, and chuckled. "_Thess one well be good."_

Matt watched as he threw the small ball. It soared through the air, and glinted from the lights on the ceiling. It seemed to wink, and then it hit its target.

Near let out a loud yelp and reached up for his eye, covering it with his hand. He looked around the room for the assailant who had committed the crime. He spotted Mello who smirked and waved. Matt sighed and looked away. Sometimes he pitied Near.

"Near? Was that you? Are you okay?" Roger had heard the shout.

Mello grabbed Matt's hand and began running from the voice. Matt grinned again. He loved the running away the best. He wasn't sure why though.

* * *

What is Mello saying this time?

"Matt, why are we here?"

"Does he know that Near will always be a freak?"

"Why am I friends with you? You're a total idiot!"

"Look, it's Near!"

"This one will be good."

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**


End file.
